Review: Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs – Land of Sleeper

What lies in the Land of Sleeper, the new album by Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs? One, heavy riffs. Two, the battle against existential dread and anger, judging by the lyrics. Lead singer Matt Baty has made no secret of how, on the band’s new album, he decided to give in to his urge to sing / scream about deep, dark subjects such as death, sloth, wrath, and how time can easily feel like it’s slipping away with each breath.

The opening guitar riff on “Ultimate Hammer” alone will knock you to the floor and shake you out of any doldrums. They seem intent on awakening us from slumber, both self-induced and imposed upon us by unseen forces. “Life passes by in the blink of an eye,” Baty sings while his bandmates charge at you with guitars and drums that sound like hundreds of band saws. The title of “Terror’s Pillow” alone gives you an idea of the dread Baty feels as he drifts off into sleep, and drummer Ewan Mackenzie‘s cymbal crashes roll over you like an avalanche.

“Big Rig” is the aftershock of that avalanche with John-Michael Hedley‘s bass leading the charge. In it, Baty sings of the grit and grime (both literal and metaphorical) that covers their hometown of Newcastle Upon Tyne, but how an old tree inspires him to keep on keepin’ on (“At times it withers, but come spring, it soldiers on.”). “The Weatherman” is downright spooky with its chant-like opening vocals and creepy guitar work by Adam Ian Sykes. “There’s a storm coming!” Baty yells. If this is the sound of an impending storm, then that storm is going to wipe towns off the map once it arrives.

“Mr. Medicine” is a song of love and hope amid the pressures of the modern world, believe it or not (“That song you sang to me made me feel strong and completely fearless.”), and “Pipe Down!” is a great example of how Sykes and producer / fellow guitarist Sam Grant often trade shredding duties back and forth in the same song.

“Atlas Stone” is a song about carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and the band amplifies this message with crushing, heavy riffs. The closer, “Ball Lightning,” takes them, and us, into psychedelic doom landscapes as dark wizards plot alliances with unholy things that live in deep trenches and a band of five warriors from Newcastle Upon Tyne decide to take up their axes, swords, crossbows, shields, and mystical scrolls to, again, do battle for the sake of all of us.

I urge you to follow them into, through, and out of the Land of Sleeper. You’ll come out of the journey with a newfound power.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs – Viscerals

Any album by the Newcastle quintet Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs should come with a roll of duct tape to secure your face to your head due to the constant threat of band’s booming, fuzzed-out riffs blasting it to smithereens. Their newest record, Viscerals, is no exception.

Beginning with mosh-pit inducing drums by Christopher Morley, “Reducer” takes off like an experimental rocket car across desolate salt flats. It shifts momentarily into bass-heavy sludge from John-Michael Hedley and echoing vocals by Matt Baty telling us that “Ego kills everything.” He’s right, of course, and that statement is woefully apparent in the 2020 political climate. The swirling guitars of Ian Sykes and Sam Grant on “Rubbernecker” produce a pulsing effect that creeps up your spine and settles somewhere in your amygdala.

“I’m dancing with the devil with his two left feet,” Baty sings on the creepy, jarring “New Body,” which is over seven minutes of controlled chaos as Baty yells, “I don’t feel a thing!” to a red-tinged harvest moon while standing in a thaumaturgic circle. Or at least the ceiling in the recording studio while standing in comfy sneakers. I’m not sure. The short “Blood and Butter” is a haunting spoken word track that melts into the thrash metal-like “World Crust,” which sounds heavy enough to crack its namesake.

“Death is in bloom!” Baty shouts on the doom-psych killer cut “Crazy in Blood.” It’s a standout track on a standout record and the type of song that makes everyone stop and listen. “Halloween Bolson” is bubbles like a witch’s cauldron and then builds to a rapid boil of space rock guitars and enough fuzzy bass to awaken a hibernating grizzly. The song crunches for nine straight minutes and, just when it lets you catch your breath, it cracks you in the head again with another massive riff. The closer “Hell’s Teeth” is a great shout-and-response track (“Let’s rock! In peace!”) that is both radio friendly and potentially speaker-damaging.

Viscerals is true to its name, as every song is either savage or seething, often both. It’s a powerful record for bizarre times that brings things into focus through fuzz.

Keep your mind open.

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